


For Some Definitions of Lost

by Leamas



Category: Declare - Tim Powers
Genre: Gen, takes place in 1950 when Guy goes to live with Kim in America
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leamas/pseuds/Leamas
Summary: Nothing about Guy's arrival is unexpected, but a sense of dread grips Kim from the moment he sees him.





	For Some Definitions of Lost

Guy’s reluctance to leave London was evident by the little he brought with him, as though he would only have to stay for as long as he was prepared for. He looked the same as Kim remembered, even accounting for how dirty he looked, with his unwashed hair and stained clothes, the cuffs of his jacket looking especially bad. It was still so clearly Guy, down to his gait and the drunken smile plastered on his face as he looked in at his old friend, and yet Kim felt a dread pooling in his stomach.

Kim climbed out of the car to greet him.

“You seem like you’ve made yourself at home.” Guy abandoned his bags several meters away from Kim’s car and walked up to him. He patted Kim’s side, softer now as a consequence of Kim’s many lunches with Angleton. He wrapped one arm around his friend’s shoulder. The aroma Kim came to associate with Guy caught up to him, like red wine and garlic. Nevertheless he embraced his friend, then pulled away to look more closely at him. Guy’s smile was lopsided, spread across his face; the longer Kim looked the more he had the distinct impression of looking through a window and seeing his reflection overlaid across the scene outside.

A car beeped from the road behind them, its journey interrupted by Guy’s errant luggage.

“L-let’s move that out of the w-way now,” Kim asked, putting a distance between himself and Guy as he scooped up Guy’s luggage. Guy leaned against the passenger’s seat and craned his head around to watch as Kim dragged the bags back to the car.

“It isn’t like the roads aren’t big enough,” Guy mused. “Swerving would be too much effort for the Yanks, I imagine. How are you finding America, Kim?”

“It isn’t London,” Kim said, “but y-you’ll find there are s-still the s-same brand of – of bloody insufferable m-men left t-to contend with. If not a d-d-d– a  different _brand_ of insufferable.” The bags were in the back seat; he joined Guy in the front, noting how his friend studied the inside of his car, running his fingers around the window.

“I’ll positively hate it, I’m sure.”

“I expect you to.”

They drove off towards Kim’s house. Guy sat splayed in the passenger’s seat, one arm resting lazily out the window. It was a familiar sight to Kim, having witnessed the same in London, and in the English countryside back in the days of training school; and in Istanbul, not long ago. Often he’d have a bottle of something-or-other with him, usually wine. Today he looked distracted. He watched the road as Kim drove, barely letting on that he noticed Kim. Kim was constantly aware of him in his peripheral vision.

“H-how was your trip?”

“Would you believe I don’t remember much of it?”

“Yes,” Kim said. “I take it that’s a good thing.”

Guy laughed. Kim heard a hollow ring to it.

“You won’t fault me, too, for having a look at all the pretty boys working on the ship, will you?”

“I’d have to expect something d-different from you,” Kim said. “And that – that would m-make me s-stupider than any of the people who – who p-posted us b-both here.”

“Oh, yes,” Guy said with a laugh, but then paused. Suddenly thoughtful, he asked, “Tell me, Kim. What is it you do expect from me?”

Kim glanced to his left, but saw no difference in Guy’s posture. Again a heaviness washed over him that he couldn’t name, and wasn’t confident that he wanted to.

“I expect you to continue on as you do,” Kim said. “I c-couldn’t expect you to be anything less than w-what you are.”

“Yes,” Guy said. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.”

 

It didn’t take long for Guy to make himself at home in the Philby house, somehow succeeding in commandeering the basement room that was given to him. He was less successful in commandeering Aileen’s blessing, but in all fairness, he didn’t really try; and anyway, he had won the adoration of the young Philbys which, Kim thought – and Guy as well, evidently – was worth more than his wife’s. It was easier to obtain, as well. Edith was pleased to see him, as well. After that it wasn’t long after that before he came home one night with a car of his own, to join Kim’s outside. The children loved that, too, and after Guy had done his part to bring them out for a spin he joined Kim on the front patio, sipping at his wine while Kim drank a glass of whatever.

“I knew I’d need to work out something for transportation,” Guy said. “I couldn’t stand it if I came over here and was expected to be stationary.”

“No one would ask you to.”

“Not so directly, Kim,” Guy said, gifting him with a knowing smile. “I’m sure it will worry many to learn that I am mobile now, and no longer confined to this house, free to roam only at your mercy, or if I steal your car.”

Kim found himself inclined to agree with Guy, recalling MacKenzie’s comment about Guy in light of the insinuation that he could do worse – _surely he can’t mean goats? –_ and wondering himself what _worse_ Guy was capable of. He looked harmless sitting beside him, although Kim knew that was far from the truth.

Yet he no longer saw anything cutting in Guy’s demeanour; he was crass and crude, unable to pass up the opportunity for a well-timed quip, and often saying what others hesitated to say, either on account of a lack of nerve or the social standing. Everything was still there, exactly as Kim remembered, but it was like a blunt knife. And Kim found himself in the uneasy position of entertaining another question that crossed his mind from the first moment he saw Guy, solitary, walking out to meet him.

 

Kim wasn’t sure precisely what time it was when he heard Guy’s car rolling into the drive, the engine far too loud for the stillness of the night, whatever the hour. Lying on his back, he looked up at the ceiling, to how the lights from the car danced across it, momentarily illuminating the room and reflecting from the mirrors and glass decorating the room. Next to him, Aileen groaned. When Kim turned his head to the side he saw her eyes peering up at him from under her arm, her eyebrows knit together into a fierce glare.

The engine was killed, taking the lights with them. Kim and Aileen Philby lay listening for either the sound of the front door or the one attached directly to the basement.

“You said he wouldn’t stay for long,” Aileen softly said.

“He’ll stay for as l-long as he needs to.” Kim felt no need to justify himself to his wife, and couldn’t understand why Aileen expected anything else from him.

“How long will that be?”

“D-do you think I know?”

“What does he need from us, Kim?” From next to him he heard the sound of rustling bedsheets as she pushed herself up onto one arm, leaning close enough that she almost touched him. He didn’t move away, despite the temptation to do so.

He didn’t know how to answer her question, either, even if he felt inclined to do so. What did Guy Burgess need from anybody? What Guy needed had always been a mystery to Kim. From his extensive time knowing the other man, and serving as his sole confidant on the only intimate matters that he could not talk about with anyone else, he expected that it was a mystery to Guy, as well. Even if Guy had the slightest hint of an answer, he had no inclination to act on it.

Kim sat up, and when he did Aileen drew herself back into the comfort of her bed, drawing the blankets up against her chest. In the dark he saw the silhouette of her face gaze after him, but ignored her. He climbed out of bed and took his bathrobe and slippers, and without a word left Aileen alone in bed.

It was still dark outside. The only light came from a streetlamp a short distance up the road. He saw the remainder of autumn clinging to the trees and piling itself on the grass; in the morning, all those leaves would be covered in frost. There was not a cloud in the sky. Guy was in his car, unable to make the final ten meters back to the house.

The door to his car was open, and one of his legs dangled out. The toe of his shoe skimmed the drive as he nudged it back and forth. Meanwhile Guy himself lay hunched over the steering wheel, one arm waving back and forth and drawing symbols in the air just over the dashboard. The keys were in his other hand, which hung at his side. He looked up as Kim approached.

“You’ve come to join me!” Guy said. “It’s a bit late. _Most_ of the fun is over, unless you _insist_ otherwise.”

Kim stopped just short of the car and looked down at Guy, trying to guess at where to start.

“Do you ever regret it?” Guy asked. “Wasting the best years of your life, when you were still young, and pretty enough for me?” If he was hoping to get a rise out of Kim with the comment, an insistence that Kim had just as much potential for getting with Guy as any other man he might lay eyes on, it didn’t come.

Guy looked up at Kim in the silence that followed, then dropped his head down again. “I suppose you cause enough trouble on your own. You don’t need me. Is that it?”

“We should get you inside,” Kim said. “Come on. Sit up. It’s f-freezing out here.”

“G-get inside, Guy,” Guy repeated. “It’s f-freezing, Guy. You don’t want to be c-cold, Guy. Do you remember how cold it was in Turkey?”

Kim tensed at the abrupt change in topic, but for reasons he couldn’t identify it did not shock him. He remembered the ordeal as though it had been yesterday. In many ways, Guy was lucky to have been spared the most unpleasant parts of the ordeal; if he thought he knew anything about how cold it could be, he was clearly mistaken. By the time he’d freed himself from the makeshift shelter and climbed back into the jeep, every part of him had been numb, his skin damp far beneath the reach of his clothes. Even when he freed himself from the tight hold Miss Ceniza-Bendiga kept on him in his sleep, he’d still been chilled, as though something inside of him had frozen that he couldn’t even begin guessing at how to thaw.

“I can recall.”

“I distinctly remember that we huddled together some nights,” Guy said. “You, and me, and me – although he was never quite as… enthusiastic about what we were there to do, was he?”

“N-neither were you,” Kim said. He waited, watching Guy while he waited for his response.

“I went with you to sort out the final preparations. _He_ didn’t. I suppose he is still me, and given a choice, if not for you, I wouldn’t have wanted to be there, either.” After a moment, Guy added, “He was still me, anyway.”

Finally, Kim came closer to Guy. He gripped his forearm and gave it a tug, but Guy remained a dead weight and so all Kim could do was wait, until finally Guy turned his head up to look at him.

“Remind me. What was it like for you?”

“We n-need to go inside, g-Guy,” Kim said in the same voice he used with his children. “It’s late. Come on. I c-can’t carry you, can I?”

“Shame,” Guy said. He let Kim to pull him from the front of the car, and then slam the door shut behind him. It echoed down the silent street. Aileen probably heard from upstairs.

With a slick, grubby hand Guy grabbed Kim’s face and pulled him closer, planting a kiss squarely on his mouth. For a moment, shocked, Kim couldn’t move. When he realised himself again, he immediately pushed Guy away.

“Have you lost your mind?” Kim demanded. He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, then wiped his hand on his bathrobe. He could still taste Guy, and he tasted almost as potent as he smelled, like something sweet that was curdling, and old, stale wine, and of course garlic.

No one else was out on the street, and if he were honest with himself he didn’t care if Aileen saw, or if she chose to make a scene because of that. He clung to the disgust crawling its way up his and allowed it to turn to anger. What made Guy think he had the right? Why had he even come here, like this?

Guy stumbled back several steps before righting himself. One hand rested on the bonnet for balance. When he looked up to Kim, the expression he wore was positively vile.

“I lost something, my dear Kim,” Guy said. “For some definitions of _lost_ , you see.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Guy?”

Guy stepped closer to him. His footwork was clumsy, and he was trembling slightly. Kim didn’t think it was entirely because of the cold.

“What was it like for you?”

“What was _what_ like?”

“To wake up one morning and find you were only you, alone.” Guy’s greasy hand landed on Kim’s shoulder. His breath stank of garlic, and vomit Kim now realised, and he stood close enough to Kim that Kim could smell every breath.

“L-let me take you inside.”

Guy’s fingers dug into Kim’s shoulder, finding the fleshy parts of him and holding on tightly. “Tell me first.”

Again when Kim looked at Guy he saw the window in his eyes again: a sheet of strong glass with nothing behind it.

Kim took a deep breath. He expected the severity of his stammer as he spoke, but again wished for more control of his words. Some experiences were too large to be lived by one man, and Kim resented being denied the opportunity to control it in the only way he might have been allowed.

“I was t-ten,” Kim said, choosing his words slowly. “As a m-matter of f-f-fact, it was m-my tenth birthday. I w-woke up and… b-before I even did I knew that I was alone.”

He didn’t say anything to Guy about how he knew, or what that felt like. He wished he could say that it was like missing a limb, except that it was more than that. At ten years old he understood what feeling helpless was like, but the vulnerability that he had felt that morning was unprecedented. It felt like his legs had been shackled together and like his hands were numb – he could touch the world only once, and he would have to hope his first try was enough. Suddenly, he had become blind to himself.

The wretched expression on Guy’s face remained, although the longer Kim looked at it the more certain he was that there was nothing behind it. Any malice that Guy might have once been capable of possessing had drained from him. And all at once Kim was certain that he didn’t have to explain what it felt like to Guy.

“I killed him.”

“I see.”

“I didn’t think it would be possible, you see,” Guy said. “But it is. Very possible. If I were pressed to answer what the worst part was, I know what my answer would be.”

The dread he’d felt upon first seeing Guy returned to him. He was so utterly aware of how they looked standing together, with Guy’s hand on his shoulder and his own hand taking Guy’s elbow to steady him; something like old lovers who couldn’t stand to be apart but at the same time did not want to be seen together. It was cold, and Kim’s fingers felt numb. The air hurt his face. There was absolutely nothing readable on Guy’s expression.

“What was it?” Kim asked.

“It was that I couldn’t even feel it.”


End file.
